I am sure fans of the ABBA musical “Mamma Mia!” are already frothing at the mouth to see the film adaptation bringing the 1999 stage musical to the big screen. The screening I attended was about three-quarters full and filled with theater-type ready to see the “magic” of the Swedish pop band’s music glittering on the silver screen, but while they cheered I was left to writhe in my seat as this film is one sour note after another.
The film is designed around a story beginning with bride-to-be, Sophie (Amanda Seyfried), sending out three letters inviting three strangers to her wedding in hopes that one of them may be her long lost father. Sophie learns of the men after secretly scouring through her mother’s (Meryl Streep) diary and sifting through the exploits of the one-time carefree hippie. The story is simple, but that is fine, the storyline in a musical can be, and often is, simple, it is the music that guiding the story that is important and how it works itself into the structure of the narrative is crucial to a musical’s success.
Unfortunately, there is absolutely no chemistry between the songs in Mamma Mia! and the story being told. Instead, it is one verse after another popping up out of nowhere as if the characters of the film are having fits of intense Tourette’s syndrome in which they must sing and they must sing now! Spontaneous singing is obviously a part of a musical, but not in such a way that it punches the audience in the face as a character bursts into song. There needs to be some kind of transition into the songs (even if it is minor). Here it is as if we are watching a typical rom-com in which the characters suddenly decide to begin singing. It’s the first musical I have seen where the question, “Why are they talking like that?” almost seems appropriate.
On top of this, it is not pleasant to the ears. This isn’t to say Streep, Seyfried and the three potential fathers played by Pierce Brosnan, Colin Firth and Stellan Skarsgard can’t sing. Sure, they can sorta sing, but given a choice you would never listen to them do so. So, what does director Phyllida Lloyd (she also directed the musical) do in her first major feature film? Why she gives them every chance possible to blurt out their best, even to the point that Brosnan is given his first opportunity and the audience around me began to chuckle when it wasn’t even appropriate… and these people clapped when the film ended! Not out of gratefulness that the misery was over, but because they liked it! Yet, Brosnan’s singing inspired laughter. Not a good sign.
As a matter of fact, Lloyd shows absolutely no ability as a director whatsoever as she often repeats camera passes in succession and shoots this film in such a way that it’s supposed $65 million production budget seems like it was spent on anything but the film. The picture feels cheap and as if no care was taken with its overall quality. Each actor seems uncomfortable in their part and the aging Streep never once comes off as a character you should care for in any way and neither does her pea-brained daughter. Her one time band mates played by Christine Baranski and Julie Walters are along for comedic effect, but not even their bathroom stall hugging songs or Baranski’s music video out of nowhere can even generate a smile on my face.
The worst comes with a mere 10 minutes or so left in the film when Streep is given her big number as she sings “The Winner Takes It All” (watch here and imagine it about four minutes longer) and doesn’t leave out a single verse. This is perhaps the longest, most gut-wrenching song I have ever had the displeasure of sitting through in a movie theater. Its place in the film is off-putting and its shear length gives no credit to an audience that has already figured out how bad this film is, only leaving them to suffer that much longer.
I will admit, the audience I saw this with seemed to LOVE it. However, this is an audience that was extremely well versed in the original musical and clapped, laughed and cheered at all the “right” moments. To say it was a biased group of moviegoers would be an understatement. Sure, they may generate some word of mouth, but if their friends know them at all they will completely understand just where the love for this production is coming from. Not from an objective source, but a source already in love with what they were going to see before a single frame showed on the screen. I can’t imagine anyone outside of ABBA fans and fans of the musical enjoying this film and even the fan love has me baffled.
F
